I am so old. When I wake up, it takes a few steps until my feet stop hurting. This could be a side effect of spin classes and I told my spin instructor and he told me to stretch, but I think it’s because I’m old.
I’m so old. I hate going out now. I don’t know if it’s because I’m old or because I have a boyfriend and so there’s no point in going out and cruising for dudes, but I think it’s because I’m old. I can’t even finish one beer without wanting to die now.
I’m so old. When I bend down to pick something up, it takes some effort to get back up. Some might say this is because I’m terribly out of shape and need to lose some weight, but I think it’s because I’m old. 27-year-old knees do not get my fat ass up and down like 23-year-old knees did. But the 23-year-old knees weren’t supporting quite the same ass. What I’m saying is my ass is bigger now and that may affect my knees, but I’m pretty certain it’s my age.
I’m so old. I’m going to the Taylor Swift concert in October and I’m half convinced not to dress up because I’m too old. Should 27 — oh shit, I might be 28 by the time of the concert — be dressing up to see a pop star perform? Should that be reserved to 12- and 23-year-olds who have their whole lives ahead of them? I’m 27 now and that might be too old for Taylor Swift cosplay.
I’m so old.
This is day 5 of 100 days of blogging. Read day 4 here.